Ireland 2025 – Day 7: Ballyshannon to Carrick-on-Shannon

🏍️ Day 7 – Legendary Riffs, Hairpin Rides & One Last Guinness 🎸🏞️🍺

Date: May 8th 2025

My final full day in Ireland — and she didn’t disappoint. After yet more air in the rear tyre! This was a tour de force through Donegal’s dramatic coastline, winding passes, and cultural gems. If Day 6 felt like a postcard, Day 7 was a full-blown album cover — and not just because it started with a nod to a rock legend.

🎸 Stop one: the Rory Gallagher Monument in Ballyshannon — birthplace of the Irish guitar icon. A must for any music lover (especially one on two wheels). I stood there imagining blues riffs echoing through the streets. Felt right.

Then it was off again, heading west and zigzagging toward the coast. I made a brief detour to Mountcharles Pier where fishing boats bobbed gently in the bay, then a quirky photo stop at The Little Cells monument, a reminder of the monks who once lived in stone huts as tough as the terrain.

🗺️ The road called, and I answered — with some of the best riding of the whole trip:

• Malin Beg – raw, rugged coastline, battered by the Atlantic
• Glencolmcille Folk Village – a step back in time among thatched cottages and turf fires
• Glengesh Pass – ohhh yes. Tight corners, long drops, and views to make your visor fog up from sheer awe. This one’s made for motorcycles. Just you, the road, and the wind. Heaven. 🌀💚
• A final swing up to Bloody Foreland Viewpoint — fittingly, my most northern point on this trip.

As the afternoon shadows grew longer, I reluctantly pointed the bike southeast, riding the N56 and N15 through valleys and sleepy villages. There was a definite end-of-tour feeling hanging in the air — that bittersweet blend of satisfaction and reluctance.

I landed at my final campsite near Carrick-on-Shannon, tucked the bike in for the night, and wandered up to the onsite pub for my farewell feast. 🍽️ A hearty dinner, a couple of perfectly poured Guinness, and a moment to reflect on 7 unforgettable days in the saddle.

🏕️ Camp was set up in record time — no faffing — just the rhythm of routine. Tomorrow, it’s the road home. But tonight, I raised my glass to Donegal, the Wild Atlantic, and every mile in between.